Heir of the Fomorians
by GeekSheek89
Summary: On the strip in Vegas lies a dark presence, one that the Winchesters brothers are hot on the trail of. When their hunt collides with the world of sports entertainment it leads them right into the path of The Lunatic Fringe on the biggest night of his career. A night that no one will forget in a hurry.


Here's a little concoction I have been working on for a while now. My first official (published) crossover between my two all-time favourite fandoms.  
Hope you enjoy it :) GS x

* * *

"Werewolf?" Dean asked as he crouched in front of the small motel refrigerator. The gentle hum of the icebox stopped as the door was violently yanked open rattling unsettlingly as it swung out. The light flicked on illuminating two 6packs of beer still housed in their cardboard holder. Retrieving two bottles he rose. Kicking the door shut with the heel of his left foot he strode across the large motel room, piloting towards his younger brother.

Sam sat at a small wooden table in the middle of the room. He was hunched over the large silver laptop banging feverishly away at the keys. They had found them selves in a small motel off a dusty desert highway in the middle of Nevada.

"The heart was still intact." Sam replied shaking his head. He accepted the second bottle from his brother, with an appreciative nod and cracked open the twist top. Dean pulled out the rickety wooden chair opposite and sat. "-and Vampires wouldn't leave such a … mess." he shuddered recalling the sights at the graphic crime scene they had just visited.

They had been following a bizarre trail of activity right across the country. Starting the lead back in Iowa, disappearances and un explainable weather episodes were just the tips of the iceberg. Or at least what the media wanted you to believe. They tended to miss out the surge in 'supernatural' occurrences, sudden illness epidemics and ritual like murders. They knew it was something big but couldn't put a finger on what _it_ was. What they did know is it traveled fast, skipping over states like they were nothing, just leaving a trail of devastation in its path. There last victim, a young woman, had been found ripped apart like a barrel of napalm had exploded in her stomach. A sight the didn't fit the usual M.O of anything they had encountered before.

Taking a well-deserved gulp of his beer Dean leaned back in his chair, it creaked and complained as he leaned back on two legs.

Smoothing his long hair out his eyes Sam sighed in frustration "No obvious signs of witchy-ness. No sulfur. No heavenly presences." Leaning his elbows on the wooden edge and soothed his fingertips over his closed eyelids, letting out and exasperated groan "The hell is this thing?"

"We'll get it," Dean said cockily now gently rocking himself back on 2 unstable legs.

"But we don't know what _it_ is. Doesn't that bother you?"

Dean shrugged, "we'll do what we always do. Gank it, burn it. Job done"

Sam returned to work scrolling through the crime scene photos again in a vein hope that he had missed something crucial. Dean watched his brother inquisitively. He was fried. He had been working on finding this thing for two days solid, barley slept, eaten. Hell, Dean wasn't even sure if he had been to the can. He just sat hunched over that laptop scrolling through website after website. It was time for a break.

"You know-" Dean muttered breaking the silence with a bang as he dropped the chair back down to all 4 legs "-were only 10 minutes away from the strip."

Sam peered over the top of the laptop screen raising an eyebrow "So?"

"Come on Sammy, Vegas! Black Jack, hookers, all you can eat shrimp-"

"Dean." Sam interrupted with a laugh accompanied by an amused lopsided smile "There's this big bad out there killing people and all you think about is all you can eat shrimp?"

"and the hookers." He added, a wolfish grin plastered across his freckled face. He leaned across the table, his bright green eyes practically sparking in the hazy light of the rooms dimming light "look, if the big bad shows up, we'll know what to do"

Sam focused on his older brother, his eyes looking straight ahead, not necessarily looking at Dean, more through him. His face relaxed, as if mulling over the concept of a night off. After what seemed like the longest silence in history Sam nodded slowly and shut the laptop lid. "Alright" he muttered. "but your buying dinner"

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The strip was crowded. Natives and tourists alike swarming from all directions filling the surrounding vicinities with noise and merriment. Street performers wandered their way through the hustle and bustle entertaining everyone as the went, female dancers and Elvis impersonators were as far as the eye could see. Lights from every building dazzled and sparkled in the dusty desert sunset, when a large flashing neon billboard caught Sam's eye. A large tanned muscularly build of a man graced the cover, his long black hair falling passed his shoulders, his right arm covered in a massive Trible tattoo. He held a golden briefcase in his hand with the words 'WWE Money in the Bank' emblazoned on the front and a shiny title belt over the opposite shoulder. "Hey, remember when we begged dad to take us to WrestleMania?" Sam reminisced pointing the sign out to his older brother

Dean laughed, "The best he could do was some knock off Indy show in the next town over. Wanna check it out?"

They crossed the street to the large arena with every intention of joining the end of the ever-growing box office que. As they passed an alley way a sound echoing around the tall buildings caught their attention. The alley was poorly lit and mostly home to several large dumpsters. Instinct kicked in as the boys approached with caution, Dean reaching for the Smith and Weston stashed in his jacket pocket. The sound grew louder. A sloppy squelching noise, mixed with the low guttural growl of a feral animal. As they round the final dumpster a pair of human legs kneeling on the hard ground came into view. Slowing there pace even more they began to creep up on the aslant.

They saw the teeth first. Long jagged fangs dripping with the blood of its canine victim. A face, perhaps once human, so distorted, furrowed, shaded by the mass of long black hair was barely recognizable. It ripped another large chunk of meat off the bone, unaware of the approaching Winchester brothers. A bottle skidded across the alley disturbing the peace with a glassy rattle, Sam freezing mid stride. He never saw the bottle his underfoot. Two piercing yellow eyes flicked up at them, a blood-stained sneer and throaty growl filled the air as the attacker turned and fled. "After It!" Dean called as the pair tailed the creature further into the alleyway. Whatever it was happened to be incredibly tall, and fast. Almost too fast for the Winchesters to keep up. Skirting a corner, they spotted the tattooed arm of the aggressor flee through a set of double doors into a large gloomy white building. Still at full speed, Sam darted for the door grasping the wood entry by the fingertips before it slammed shut.

Inside was dark there was no windows to speak of and certainly no artificial light, a constant metallic hum of machinery filled the space. Sam reached for his cell phone switching on the flashlight casting a small pool of light ahead of them. Tall metallic cylinders and pipes littered the room, a boiler room perhaps. The pair navigated around several large chambers a door at the furthest end opened, casting light briefly into the vast room before slamming shut again. The brothers didn't hesitate and sprinted towards the door. It opened out into the bottom of a stairwell, out of breath the brothers tackled the stairs taking two steps at a time before reaching the top. Dean, holding his gun to his chest burst through the door, but pocketed the firearm instantly as he took in his new surroundings.

The place was a hive with activity, a large open gangway filled with busy hurrying people darting about. It was also incredibly noisy, the sound of an invisible ruckus crowd echoed around the high-ceilinged area. They were inside the arena, backstage.

"Crap" Dean gruffed "C'mon" he motioned to Sam and they walked with purpose down the hallway in search of the beast.

* * *

Dean Ambrose lay nonchalantly across the plush leather sofa in his brother's locker room chewing his stick of gum loudly. He smoothed his camel colored hair out his eyes to watch his friend pace nervously up and down wearing the carpet thin "Seth. Quit pacing, your giving me a head ache?". Seth froze and turned to look at his casual friend, his deep brown eyes wide with worry as he stared into Deans baby blues. He ran a nervous hand across the back of his neck.

"What if my knee gives out again?" He replied adjusting his grey wrist straps for what seemed like the seventieth thousandth time and tightening the messy black haired bun that sat atop his head.

His friend shrugged "you got 'nother one ain't ya?"

Seth seemed to relax a little, his eyes looking less worried and more amused. He flips Dean his middle finger. "Be serious"

"Nah. Tried that once. Gave me terrible indigestion"

Seth rolled his eyes as a small flickering smirk crossed his tanned face. "Where is Roman? He said we would go through the play again"

Dean threw his head back in exasperation as his friend continued to pace "Oh. My. God" he elongated the each word "will you just relax!" Dean hopped to his feet. Stopping Seth mid stride by grabbing the tops of his bare shoulders, staring deeply into his dark eyes "Everythin'. Will be fine." He repeated slowly not breaking eye contact, removing his hands from his shoulders he placed one hand on either cheek "Trust me." He patted his cheek playfully

"That's what worries me" Seth muttered, smirking again at his friend

Dean beamed, deep pocketed dimples graced his pale cheeks as he pulled his friend in a head lock and vigorously rubbed his knuckles across his scalp dislodging his 'man bun.' Seth pushed him away forcefully, cursing under his breath as he re adjusted his hair.

"You'll have a great match, no problems. Then I'll cash in, strut about with my new title-" ignoring Seth's comment _"You got to win the briefcase first"_ he continued

"- and we'll back at mine cooking on the BBQ, drinking beer, just like old times."

Seth shook his head, he was always amazed by his friend's attitude towards everything. Like they hadn't just spent the last 2 years at each other's throats. He was always made out to be the "crazy" one but at times like these he was always the most level headed. It was like nothing had ever changed.

"I'mma grab a coffee, you want anything? Water? Dohnut? Ritalin?" Seth huffed a laugh but shook his head.

"ok" Dean hummed as he turned to leave the room, striding across the large locker room he place a hand on the door handle and pulled it open effortlessly

"Hey Dean." He stared back at his friend. A small shy smile crept across Seth's face as he ran a nervous hand across the back of his neck.

"I'm _-er-_ glad were friends again."

"Urgh," Dean wrinkled his nose as if he encountered a back smell "don't get chick flick on me. Scum-Bag." He mocked, the beaming smile causing the corners of her eyes to crinkle

Seth mimicked his smile "Ass Hole"

Dean let out a solitary laugh before venturing out into the busy hallway. The vast gangway was alive with movement, an almost complete contrast to the quiet atmosphere in Seth's locker room. Dean side stepped a golf cart buggy that zoomed passed him. Flashing a flirty smile and wink to the small hair and make-up team "Ladies" he purred as he walked by. He wasn't far from catering, and his stomach let him know. It grumbled in anticipation as he continued on his path. He was a few feet away from the room when he noticed something ahead that looked out of place. A tall figure of a man walked hurriedly towards him, hunched over, his face covered by the thick black hood of his jacket. Unaware of Deans presence the person slips down and dashes out of sight into an adjoining corridor. Dean raised an eyebrow. Intrigued by the strangers' unusual behavior he decided to follow them. Sailing passed catering he reached the opening to the corridor, looking down the darkened hallway was surprised to find it empty. The hair on the back of Deans neck stood on end, there was something about the situation that didn't sit comfortably with him. A large hand slapped Dean hard on the shoulder making the man jump out his skin. Dean swung a fist out in defense to see the large Samoan jump back.

"Woah!" he bellowed

"Don't sneak up on me Roman!" Dean croaked planting a closed subdued fist into the left pectoral muscle of his friend. The large muscular man chuckled folding his large arms in defiance

"Sorry Uce. Didn't mean to scare ya."

"Wasn't scared" Dean mumbled defensively.

"What you looking at anyway?" Roman looked over the top of his friend

"nuthin'" he mumbled casting another look over his shoulder down the empty corridor "you hungry?"

"Starving" Roman beamed.

Casting one final glance back to the corridor, Dean followed his friend towards catering. Unaware that from shadows of the 'empty' corridor he was being watched. The figure let out a rasping snarl as it slipped further into the shadows. Annoyed that its prey had been distracted.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"What the Hell?" Seth yelled as he entered catering eyeing up Roman with disbelief. He sat opposite Dean at a small round plastic table in the middle of the large room. Tables like there's and folding chairs dotted around the vast expense and the smell of cooked food lingered in the air. The room was fairly empty by this point, with the show minutes away from starting. A few members of the production crew getting their meals after spending the last hours setting up, a couple of superstars running over last minuet changes, nothing out the ordinary. Folding his arms in irritation he stalked towards the table where his friends sat. Dean cramming another mouthful of his sub sandwich, he watched his obviously annoyed friend pull out the chair opposite him and sit.

"Oh yeah. Rollins is looking for you" he said inadvertently spitting food debris across the table at Roman. Roman shook his head with a deep low chuckle

"you said we'd go over the match again" Seth grumbled looking across at the Samoan next to him.

"I just said that to keep you quite" Roman replied knocking back a large gulp from his water bottle. Dean let out a loud single solitary laugh and beamed at his friend.

"Come on Rome, just once more" Seth whined

Roman rolled his eyes "We've been over it a thousand and one times already today Uce. We got this"

"but-" Seth sighed "What if-"?

"Look buddy-" Dean placed his sandwich on his plate. The persistence and determination of his friend was something he always admired, but this was bordering on unhealthy. Taking the folded napkin from his lap he dabbed at the corners of his mouth wiping away the mustard left there. Pushing his plate forward he leaned his elbows on the table looking across at Seth. He could see he was worried about the match tonight, and who could blame him. His first proper lengthy match since his surgery. "you could re-run this match over and over again until we get so sick of you we beat you to a bloody pulp. The fact is, if your knee is going to give out it will, regardless what you do."

Seth's entire upper body slacked, as if someone had let the air out of him. His shoulders slumped as he cast down a mournful gaze. This was always Deans down fall. Dean could talk until the cows came home, he could handle the camera and the crowd and knew his way around a microphone. But when it came to things like this, the sensitive stuff, Dean was hopeless. Realizing he probably didn't come across as comfortingly as he had imagined. He stared across the table at his deflated friend. Running a nervous hand up the back of his head, "Seth, I didn't mean-"

"No," Seth said quietly raised his head "you're right." A small half smile crossed his face as he acknowledged Dean's words. "If it's going to go I can't stop it, right?" casting a hesitant glance over at Roman. A large friendly smile graced his tanned cheeks as he started down at the smaller man. He patted his friend forcefully on the back and reassured him that everything would be ok. Seth let out a loud breath as if realizing all his tension and relaxed back into his chair. Noticing that Dean's half a sandwich still sat on the plate in front of him, Seth leaned across and helped himself

"Hey?!"

Seth ignored him and took a large bite. Dean stared in astonishment at the nerve of his friend. He should have been angry, but instead Dean smiled.

A few months ago, he had hated the sight of the Iowa native. After turning his back on himself and Roman in his quest for power and fame. Week in week out they would trade words and blows to one up the other, when the truth was they were both miserable. All they ever wanted was to be brothers again. And if it hadn't been for Roman, they probably would still hate each other.

A large splotch of yellow mustard landed in the middle of Seth's bushy black beard and Dean laughed. "you got a lil'" he said pointing to his own chin and handing Seth a napkin. Accepting it he wiped away the stain and continued to chow down on the sandwich.

The building had suddenly become alive. The roar of the crowd was deafening matching the intensity of the pyro-technique display. "Show time boys" pushing his chair back form the table Dean rose to his feet. Extending his closed fist in a sigh of solidarity he bumped knuckles with Roman and Seth "good luck" he called from over his shoulder as he headed towards the door

"you too Uce"

"Don't get yourself killed"

Dean chuckled and waved two fingers over his shoulder in a sign of response and gratitude.

Heading down the hall towards the locker room they shared he noticed something peculiar. Stopping, he realized the corridor was completely empty. Not a single sole, as if he had just walked into a wild west ghost town. This did not sit well with Ambrose. The hair on the back of his neck prickled again as he took in the surroundings. It was quiet, deathly quiet. The roar of the crowd seemed miles away, like they weren't even in the same building. A chill grazed over his pale bare arms and he shivered slightly. He could have sworn he saw his breath mist as he exhaled. He thought briefly about turning back. "Don't be a fucking pussy" he muttered. Shaking of the feeling and continued his path. Albeit a little quicker. He wasn't far from the locker room when he got the sensations that he wasn't alone. Footsteps echoed behind him. Big heavy boots drumming against the concrete floor in a slow methodical pace. Dean chuckled "Alright boys, you got me" he turned expecting to find Roman or Seth sneaking up on him. But there wasn't anybody, just empty hallway. His brow knitted together and let out a small hum of confusion. He turned back to the direction he was heading to be met with a large figure. It towered over him, a clear foot taller, and much wider. A hand extended and wrapped around Deans throat, listing him effortlessly off the floor and slamming him into the nearest wall. The face of his attacker was hidden by a large black hood, all Dean could make out was his bottom jaw, a row of sharp teeth snarled at him in a dark sinister smile. "at last." It purred in a voice that Dean recognized. He flailed his limbs in a vague attempt to kick, punch or claw his aggressor but to no avail. His vision began to blur as he gasped and spluttered for air as the hand around his throat increasing in pressure. He was getting weaker with every micro second, he would surly pass out. The aggression dropped his hood but Dean could not focus on his face. All he could see was two piercing yellow eyes considering his. His left arm rose out in front of him spontaneous of his own consciousness. Dean tried to fight the involuntary movement but was ineffective.

There was a white hot intense burning across the out stretched palm. He cried out in pain but nothing escaped mouth. "It's time my brother. Join us." the voice hummed again. Long claw like fingers, cold like steel clamped around his hand. A surge of electricity hummed through his veins, up his arm. Spreading like a warming wave over his skin.

"DEAN!" a voice broke through the haze of Ambrose's quickening unfocused, blacking out mind. The hand around his throat vanished and he fell to the floor landing with a sickening thud, coughing and gasping for air. His vison still poor could make out 2 new shapes. People. They had come from seemingly nowhere and tackled the large attacker to the ground. One of them approached Dean "are you ok?" he asked kneeling beside the sprawled-out Ambrose placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. He tried to answer but his throat was on fire. He wrapped his hand around his neck to sooth his bruised throat he nodded solemnly.

"Who are you?" the second arrival asked, a deep, gravelly, pissed off tone. The attacker just laughed, a deep eerie chuckle which seemed to anger the other man. "Talk ass hole" He had dragged the other man to his feet and held him pinned against the wall. Even though the attacker stood much taller than his savior this didn't seem to faze the shorter man. His vision started to clear. The face was like nothing he had seen before. His jaw jutting out slightly as two white fangs protruded from his bottom jaw along with a matching the row as sharp canine-like teeth. It was easy to say, this _thing_ had once been human, but was plagued with wolf like features. Ears pointed at the tips, a snout that was elongated slightly and yet kept human qualities. A swollen forehead, lumpy and creased into a frown. The long black hair falling passed his shoulders. It flashed Dean a look. A look that sent chills down his spine. There was something well-known about that face. A face he saw every day.

"The Fomorians will rise again." He crooned coolly at him before turning to the other man, his face twisted into a creepy smirk "He's coming, and you won't stop him. Run." He chuckled

"Who is?"

But before the smaller man got his answer the attacker vanished. There was no puff of smoke, no flickering light, no sudden sink holes in the arena. He had just disappeared, right in front of their eyes.

Something warm trickled down his neck dripping onto his black wife beater top. Removing his hand looking down at his blood-stained palm for the first time. A deep gash traveling along on the naturally formed creases of his hand was with keen precision perfectly sliced wide open, like a surgical cut. Blood pooling in is open palm. "the fuck?" he croaked as he watched blood spill over the side of his pale hand and drip onto the concrete floor.

"Its deep. Gonna need stiches" The taller man concluded gently examined his injured palm.

"Had worse" Dean muttered and the taller man smiled, ripping a strip of fabric from his green plaid shirt he wrapped it around his hand to stop the blood flow.

"you sound like my brother."

"Dean?" Seth's voice rang out through the hallway suddenly appearing at his side. "Are you-" approaching up behind his friend he noticed the blood-soaked rag around his hand "What the hell happened?! Did you-" he asked aggressively the two saviors.

"Cool it Seth" he rasped interrupting Seth's inevitable onslaught, his voice sounding croaky and strained "These dudes saved my ass"

"Hey Sammy" the shorter man muttered from behind them. Dean watched them with curiosity. He was staring intently at the wall crouching on the balls of his feet, as if the longer he started it would magically open. His partner, _Sammy,_ mimicked his movements. To stare at the wall. "there's no sulfur, no scorch marks, not even a damn hair-" he mumbled nostrils flaring.

"Ambrose, are you listening?!" Seth's voice broke his concentration. "we got to get you to the medics" And before he realized his friend was guiding him away from the pair and down the hall in the opposite direction.


End file.
